


For Those in Peril on the Sea

by ghostbusters



Series: Jearmin Week [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1958733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostbusters/pseuds/ghostbusters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(written for Jearmin week - prompt: Protect)<br/>Titanic AU. Jean is a first class passenger making his way in the world as an angsty little rich boy. Armin is from third class and not supposed to be up on that deck anyway. He just wanted the best view of the ocean. Cue the wildly inappropriate love story aboard a vessel doomed to a history of romanticized retellings. Thanks a lot, James Cameron. Look what you've done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Those in Peril on the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> yo this is the vaguest reach at the Protect prompt. and its sappy and pretentious and sad. all the things i specialize in! so pretentious. have at it.

The combination of the cool wind and the burn of the cigar felt divine as Jean stepped out onto the deck, away from the clink of silver on china and wail of violins. He needed the breeze and the quiet sounds of the sea, spread for miles and miles in every direction. A break from the mindless chatter would also be nice. Sure, he didn't really have a problem with the endless discussion of oil fortunes and prodigy children set to inherit millions, he was one of them, but he was ever so bored. The promise of a grand adventure on the world's biggest ocean liner sounded spectacular on paper. Now he was finally there and it felt like just another day in his steady life, steady waves rocking him back and forth.

“Ship of dreams, huh?” he muttered around a puff of smoke. The cigar was abruptly knocked from his hands as a blur of yellow and tan rushed by. “Hey, asshole! What the hell!?”

He picked the fallen cigar up to stub it out, adjusted his waistcoat, and stormed off to give that drunk asshole a piece of his mind. He had to have been drunk, who else would have had the audacity to knock into another person and carry on without a word? The nerve of some people on this boat, dead set on disrupting his solitude. Jean headed off in the direction he believed the guy to have headed, pace brisk but steady, always steady. He firmly believed that a dignified man should never run anywhere unless he absolutely needed.

An attendant pointed him in the direction of a man who'd recently ran by, a short distance up the stairs leading to the back deck. Jean headed onwards towards his mission, collecting his thoughts all the while on what he was going to say to this annoying man to vent frustrations not entirely his fault. Didn't matter, it was the man's own bad timing in running by at that exact moment.

Jean finally approached the deck area and saw him, standing with two feet firmly off the ground. He was balanced on the curved railing of the stern, leaning over in apt focus. Maybe he was going to be sick, but there were plenty of other railings for him to lean over along his sprint. Jean stared curiously at the man, blond hair stringy and whipping in the wind.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!” Jean called out, breaking the silence.

With a jolt, the man stumbled. His footing on the thin rails slipped, but he caught himself from sliding under with a quick grapple for the metal. He was alright if not a little shaken, but Jean rushed forward in worry. He grabbed the other by the arms and hoisted him up, helping to untangle his limbs from the rails and causing him to lose a boot over the boat side in the process. Well, Jean sure felt like a right fool as the man sadly watched his shoe fall away to the water.

Boy, more so than man. The little blond fellow had to be near his age or younger, Jean noted as he took in the round face and bright blue eyes now staring at him in confusion.

“Are you alright...sir?” Jean asked in genuine worry, smarmy annoyance from moments before now vanished.

“No thanks to you, _sir_.” He said in an accented voice, soft but firm in his displeasure.

“Hey, I helped you!”

“Only after startling me!”

“I wouldn't have had to if you hadn't knocked into me after running like a madman! Why were you up _there_ anyway? Didn't look very safe, honestly.”

“Wanted to see the propellers. Couldn't, though...”

“So all this commotion for nothing.” Jean smiled gently as the boy glanced away, feeling a little silly for the scene he caused. “Tell me, why were you running?”

“Well I wasn't exactly supposed to be on the first class decks. Fastest way to get back here though, really.”

Jean gave the boy a once over, looking at his shabby tan jacket and the hole in his sock. “Third class.” The boy nodded, clearly uncomfortable. “Oh shit, you're missing-”

“A boot. Your fault. Seems you owe me one.” He turned to look Jean directly in the eye as he swallowed his pride and spat out, “As a true testament to my class, this is my only pair. Think you can spare a dime and make it up to me? Eh, rich boy?”

Jean flushed deep red at the smirk and led the other to follow. Where the hell was he supposed to find this kid a new pair of shoes on a boat? At least he wasn't bored anymore.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -

They walked around the upper class decks together in companionable conversation after Jean decided to buy the shoes off a dining room attendant who seemed to be the same shoes size as his new friend Armin. He'd given the man almost as much as Armin's lowly third class ticket was worth, easily traded away with pause only long enough to dig the note from his wallet. Was Armin supposed to be impressed? Well, he certainly  _ wasn't _ , for the record.

The two young men traded stories of how they'd found themselves on the ship and basked in their differences. Jean came from money and manners, hailing from the villas of France towards a new life and waiting fortune in Canada. He was old money and content with that lot in life. Mostly. Regardless, that didn't mean he felt above a kid like Armin, unlike the rest of his family hidden away in stately lounges on the other side of the ship. He was incredibly curious now that something interesting was finally happening to him.

Then there was Armin, who'd actually won his ticket onto Titanic from an especially lucky hand at poker. Armin, who'd left his shabby flat in London with only a small suitcase of his late grandfather's heirlooms and that very ticket aboard. He had no true destination, other than the next port ahead. The more he talked, the more Jean was fascinated by this boy. He possessed the spark of adventure, and that spark was infectious.

The cold night air over the Atlantic settled in as the sun faded completely away, drawing the boys inside. Jean offered a warm sitting room and a glass or two of expensive wine. He lead Armin to the ornately decorated parlor attached to his quarters and poured them each a glass. Armin could not sit still, curious and nosy as he shifted through boxes of books piled against the wall. He had always been drawn to books and longed for the small collection he'd left behind in London.

“What's this?” he asked, leafing through the pages of what appeared to be a sketchbook.

“No, don't look! Put that down!” He tried to snatch the book away but Armin was quicker, able to balance the sketchbook in one hand and his glass of wine in the other. “Please don't look at that trash.”

“It's not trash. These are very good. You drew them, Jean?” He smiled at the faces looking up at him, full of life despite only being drawings on a page.

Jean sighed and sat down next to Armin on the lounger, leaning over to cringe at his old work.

“Yes. I did these. It's just a small hobby of mine, nothing important.”

“Well they're very good. You shouldn't hide them.”

“My parents think it's a waste of time...” he muttered before taking a large sip of wine.

“Don't listen to them, you're talented.” He paused before an idea struck him. “You should draw me!”

“Hell, no.”

“Come on. Jean. Please, Jean?”

Those blue eyes pleaded with him, so eager and genuinely interested in the request. Jean's rare friends who were aware of his artistic leanings never seemed to care, never showed even a sliver of the interest that Armin had. He sighed, finished his glass, and took the sketchbook gently from the other's hands.

“Fine. Let me find a pencil and _stay still_."

After much squirming and teasing comments passing between the two, the drawing was complete. Armin leaned over Jean's shoulder with a wide smile, more than pleased with how well his new artistic friend had captured his likeness on the paper. He felt honored to be included among pages that boasted beautiful countryside landscapes and glamorous people Jean explained to have studied at parties. He loved the drawing.

Jean flipped through the book with Armin plastered to his side, asking question after question as the pages turned to something new. He was growing hyper-aware of the other's presence, a shudder running down his back as that stringy hair tickled against his cheek when Armin leaned closer to get a better look at a particular sketch that caught his eye. Jean resisted the urge to wrap an arm around Armin, heart rate increasing the longer their accidental touches lingered. No, he was to stop thinking that way. It was useless. 

He laid in bed that night, exhausted but wide awake with thoughts of endless waves and bright blue eyes staring at him from over the horizon.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

These things kept happening to him, these unfortunate feelings at even more unfortunate times.

There was a girl waiting for him in Montreal. A girl with a fortune even bigger than his father's and he didn't even know what she looked like. His parents expected a marriage and essentially a union of both families by the time the year was over. It was business, and he understood that. It was what was best for both families, the responsible thing to do.

But Jean couldn't help but think back to summer days hidden away in nearby forests and freckles on tan skin, sharp jawlines of boys leaving the days of adolescence, and that wide smile that occasionally haunted his memories. He lived a life of both money and secrets and he was growing so tired. So very, very bored. Secrets were not as exciting as the stories would claim. The security and protection of a life in comfort was pulling him one way, while the eyes of a boy he barely knew and had only just met were pulling him just as hard.  _ Reckless _ , his mother had yelled when she'd found  _ those _ sketches of his first love.  _ Reckless _ , and into the fire they went.  _ T _ _ éméraire. _

He stared out over the railing that afternoon and felt like being reckless once again. Into the fire he dove.

He searched all afternoon for Armin, finally realizing that no, no of course the boy wouldn't be back to wander those first class decks. Jean took the plunge and ventured levels below, to halls and decks more crowded than the spacious, fresh air of the top levels. It was stifling up above, anyway.

“Jean?” Came the voice he'd been hoping to hear.

“Armin! I've been looking everywhere for you.” He finally found the boy, sitting on the floor with a group of others his age in the far corners of one of the third class lounge areas, a place no more than an open room with plain benches and tables strewn about. It wasn't an awful place, just far, far less visually appealing than the tapestries and chandeliers of decks above. Armin waved him over and moved to make a space next to himself.

"Hey, who is this? We don't need anyone else for this round.” A boy with dark, messy hair and a harsh scowl questioned. Jean scowled right back at the scrawny kid currently shuffling a deck of cards.

“Eren, this is Jean. Jean, Eren. Please don't fight, he's nice.” Neither boy knew who Armin was referring to with that statement and thought it best to ignore each other. The group was playing poker, Armin's specialty, even if no one in the group had anything substantial to bet. Jean learned this the hard way when everyone laughed at him as Armin forced him to put his wallet away.

“Don't embarrass us, mate. We've nothing to bet with,” joked a shorter boy with a buzzed worker's hairstyle and eyes as big as Armin's. “It's just for fun. Lighten up, mister posh. Scuff those shiny shoes you've brought with ya.”

“Leave him alone, Connie. Look how red his face is!” Eren laughed, loudly pointing out the very apparent blush breaking out on Jean's face. That's it. He didn't have to deal with being treated that way and stood up to leave, throwing his card hand on the floor.

“Wait, Jean! Sit back down,” Armin pleaded. The others begged him to stay as well.

“Yeah, we're only kidding.”

Even Eren, so adamantly against him at first, tossed a bid out. “I need some honest competition and I hope you damn well deliver! Armin cheats, I know it."

"I do not!"

Jean looked to Armin and was sold, the stern nod and subtle flick of a grin convincing him that it was alright. The mood was different in the wide, open room with plain walls. Their defenses were down, cares exposed as free. He could learn a thing or two from these people. As sneaky, small fingers sought his own hand resting back on the outside of the circle, he was sure he could learn even more.

“I should probably get back upstairs,” Jean whispered to Armin after the game eventually died down a while later as some of the others were dispersing. He motioned to the doorway and Armin took that as his cue to follow.

“Do you have to?”

“Mother and father would be furious if I missed dinner. Already ducked out yesterday.”

“There's a party tonight,” Armin blurted out hopefully. “Level below this one. Everyone from the game will be there. It's the same as we've done every night so far.”

He was shy, unsure of himself as he told Jean about the party. The pained look on the other's face seemed to give an answer already, knowing he had no choice but to let Armin down. Well. It was a long shot. He was already shocked to find Jean wandering below deck earlier, of course he was pressing his luck too far with this outlandish suggestion. Different worlds and all that.

“We'll see. It's been an entertaining afternoon, regardless.” Jean winced at his clipped statement. He didn't want to go back, but knew he had to. He didn't have any business lingering more than he already had.

He left quickly before those big blue eyes could distract him further. They flicked downwards as Jean walked away, more disappointed than Armin knew he should feel.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Start from the outside and work your way in, that was the advice his late grandmother had told him a long time ago. Why did they need so many utensils? He never really paid attention to things that were now second nature, like the shining line-up of engraved forks or how the high-pitched, tinkling sound of his mother's lifeless laughter made his skin crawl. He slunk lower in the plush, high backed dining chair, hands clenched in fists with nails digging in to bleed. Screaming would be inappropriate but it was the only thing he longed to do. Flip the table. His parents would probably barely notice what was right in front of them. 

Jean knew it was a delusion but he swore he could feel the engines way below deck, churning on and on and bringing him closer by the second to that life ahead. The spacious dining room left him feeling exposed.

Enough.

“Excuse me,” he muttered, threw his napkin onto his chair, and abruptly dashed from the table.

“Jean! Where are you going?" She sounded almost bored as she called out, exasperated more than concerned. "You've barely touched your dinner."

He ignored his mother's further protests and ran. Ran far away from false safe haven where every movement and thought and moment of the day was calculated and planned and judged and made his head spin. How had be been so foolish to believe that he was happy there? And how had such a simple- _no_ , beautiful, intriguing boy managed to find him behind all the walls hiding him away? Those thoughts faded the further he distanced himself from the dining room. Jean had a real party to attend.

It was amazing, smoke and sweat and raucous music saturating the air. The laughter was full of life and he found himself flinging away his dinner jacket to some poor, downtrodden drunk propped up near the entry door without hesitation. He was done showing up over dressed to events. Jean scanned the crowd in search of that one person who threw off his entire center of balance.

There. A flash of gold and a glimpse of that soft, smiling face as he spun to the joyous tune being played. Act casual. Be suave. He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and strode forward.

“Sorry I'm late.”

Armin flinched at the hand grasping his wrist, mid attempt at a jig, breath catching in his throat at the sight of the man staring down at him. Jean slowly lifted Armin's hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss to the back in hopes that any resentment the other felt would lessen. He was pleased at the sight of long-lashes sweeping closed in a happy sigh. Good job, Jean. So damn suave.

“You showed up,” Armin said, slightly breathless. _From the dancing, only from the dancing_ , he reasoned with himself. “A little late, yes, but you're here.”

“I'm not very good at this sort of thing but... do you want to dance?”

Jean received his answer in the form of being yanked into a circle forming in lieu of an actual response. Fine with him, as Armin's steady hand gripped his right one. He loosened up more and more as the group danced and circled around and around in the haze of the lower deck's excuse for a ballroom. Jean felt like an utter fool, but it was perfect. They eventually broke from the circle to scrounge up some beers and gather with Armin's group of friends, all surprised but excited to see that he managed to venture down to the party.

They talked and drank and danced and then drank some more, oblivious to anything outside the walls of the crowded third class ballroom. Armin was a constant presence at Jean's side, leaning on his arm or steadying himself with a hand on the taller boy's shoulder. It made Jean feel like he was on fire, the kind he didn't need to run from. But he needed to get out of here.

“Come on,” he drained his glasses and set it on the table, leading Armin away from the group. He followed with an arm clinging around Jean.

“Where to? Tired of socializing? Got to get back updeck?”

“So many questions, geez. And no, I'm not going back up there.”

“You're not?” The confusion on his face was replaced with something different as Jean rested a hand against his cheek.

“I'm not. Let me know if I'm out of line for doing this but...”

He leaned in, completely unsure of what he was doing but he couldn't wait. His lips pressed to such soft, waiting ones, feeling the breath drawn in at the contact. Armin's back flattened against the corridor wall, hands scrambling to hold onto something, finding Jean's shirt to latch onto. Yes. Yes, they had the same idea.

“Was that ok?” Jean asked, voice low and rough with want. Armin nodded and pulled him back in to kiss again.

They collided with the door to Armin's cabin, luckily not too far away. Armin requested one of Jean's long dress socks to tie around the door, laughing all the while as the Jean protested the ridiculousness of the idea. Armin didn't want to be interrupted was all. They crashed onto the small bed, one of a few bunks in the tiny lower class accommodations. It didn't matter, Jean had been willing to shove the other boy into a hall closet if they hadn't made it back to the cabin pronto.

It was laughable to them both, how much Jean didn't know what he was doing. So sure for a moment as they stumbled down the corridor, he now stammered and insisted on making sure they weren't rushing into things. Armin didn't say a lot, choosing to silence the other with kisses and a glance that spoke volumes, eyes dark and chest heaving in an attempt to catch his breath. It wasn't too fast at all. They were living in the moment. Armin reveled in having Jean there with him, a solid, living force beneath him for the time being. His willingness to throw his world away and embark on this adventure was endearing, but Armin worried that it would be short lived once they made land in a few day's time.

He didn't want to dwell on that in their hideaway in the depths of the ship, tiny bed creaking as they shifted and disrobed to finally feel skin against skin. It was so hot, almost stifling in the small cabin. Maybe it was because the boilers were so close below deck, maybe it was the fire reflected in their eyes. Sweat dripped from the tip of Armin's nose, his forehead pressed against Jean's as they kissed with the barest touch of lips as they moved together.

The calm that followed, full of gentle smiles and lazy kisses, was shattered with Eren's loud complaints and fists pounding on the locked cabin door. They could only laugh as Armin untangled his shaky legs from Jean's to unlock the door and let his friend into their shared cabin. 

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

The bed was small, but it seemed bigger than it had when Armin eventually fell asleep late the night before. He rolled over, alone. His breath ruffled his bangs as he sighed hard, half expecting this morning outcome, He knew Jean's words were too good to be true. Of course he'd return to his life levels above the cramped corridors down below. Fantasy never came true, but it was fun to dream about.

“Did Eren finally kick you out? You snore real loud for such a small guy.”

_Jean._ Walking down the corridor with arms laden with what looked like breakfast. He hadn't run away.

“I'm not that small,” Armin shot back, brief disappointment quickly gone. “And I don't believe I snore. You're making that up.”

“Oh, you do. It was amazingly loud. I'm impressed.” He leaned down for a quick kiss. “Come on inside, I stole some food.”

They ate the stolen biscuits and other food while the others slowly woke up, demanding a share of the stash. Jean seemed in excellent spirits in comparison to Armin's disbelief. Was he really serious about what they'd talked about the night before? He'd rambled on and on about his excitement to arrive in New York and all that awaited them there. The subject was avoided as the day wore on, filled instead with exploring as much of the ship as possible, unsure of what else there was to do. The cruise liner was massive, but the same faces kept revolving by in a daze as they circled the decks and rooms and hallways of the lower class areas.

“I can't hold my tongue any further. Jean, what are you doing?”

“What? What am I doing?” He glanced around like a fool while Armin rolled his eyes and sat roughly down onto a bench. Armin stared out through the railing bars at the vast expanse of ocean gliding by. “Armin, what's the matter?”

“I'm just waiting for you to run away.”

“Run away?”

“Your family is probably worried sick about you! You can't just leave them to do god knows what with me when we dock. Are you serious, Jean?”

“I am. You don't understand.”

“Poor little rich boy...” Armin muttered.

Jean scoffed at the comment, but understood where the other was coming from. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Poor me, jaded by my cushy life. It doesn't matter though! I can be happy without it. I wasn't happy  _with_ it so... so what's the harm in starting over!”

“I'm only offering some rational advice. This is a big choice. You can't always take choices like this back. Don't want you to regret it.”

“Maybe I will. Maybe I won't. Let's just wait and see, ok?” Jean chuckled to himself before standing up to lean over the railing, laughter growing all the while.

“Oh, what now!”

“Wait and _sea_ , get it?” He joked, pointing out at the waves. Armin threw his hands up and left the bench to resume their previous stroll around the decks, fuming over how severely obnoxious Jean was. What an idiot. He really liked him, despite it all, honestly.

“You're unbelievable! I'm trying to have an honest, responsible conversation here!”

Jean jogged over to catch up as Armin continued to rant. “Hey, one of us has to be the funny one in this relationship! You're so serious.”

He felt carefree, light as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his back, as he and Armin explored the ship. Jean knew he was being irresponsible, he knew that very well. His family would be furious and would fight his decision so he wasn't even going to confront it. The lies he would be living when they arrived in Canada would eat away at him, make him miserable. Jean considered any regret he would potentially have in his new life to be minor and fleeting when he thought about the years and years of resentment he'd feel if he stayed with the way things were. Sitting around in boardrooms while others suffered and made his millions loomed over him like a nightmare, pushed to the back of his mind all these years.

After Armin had fallen asleep the night before, he'd stared for ages at the serene face of that boy he found himself so incredibly infatuated with. He was the unknowing savior from those bad dreams.

“They should all be at dinner right now, unless they're in my cabin waiting to ambush me or something. Wouldn't put it past the old witch,” Jean laughed, clipped as the nerves set outside his cabin door. He and Armin concocted a plan to sneak into the Kirschtein block of cabins to leave the letter he'd written, detailing his farewells and brief explanation for his disappearance.

Jean needed to steal away some things from his safe as well. Yes, he was giving up the lifestyle, but that didn't mean that his new life couldn't use a small start-up.

“Are you sure we shouldn't wait to leave the letter closer to our landing?”

“Maybe. I can't stomach another formal event with them though and I'd rather them not send out someone to search for me.”

“They probably will still do that, though.”

“I'll deal with that _if_ it happens. I stuck it somewhere they won't find right away. You worry too much."

“Because this is an awful plan.”

“Sssh. Let's just get my suitcase and safe.”

They creeped into the cabin, grateful to find that it was empty as well. They'd lucked out to find Jean's parent's suite vacant when they'd left the letter on their dresser. Jean was humming a happy tune as he spun the dial on the safe, grinning at the sight of the small hoard of cash stashed away there. A few expensive trinkets were with the money, like a watch passed down through a few older generation, real diamond cufflinks, among other things. He stuffed what he could fit into his pockets and small suitcase, which was mostly full of his sketchbooks. Armin glanced sadly through the boxes of books and paintings still stacked in the room. Another trove of books he was leaving behind.

“I know, I'll miss those things too,” Jean said softly as he slid behind Armin, arms wrapping around a slim waist. He pressed a quick kiss to the other's neck, nuzzling into that gorgeous blond hair. “Wherever we end up, we'll collect a huge library of books. Spend nights by the fire, reading and doing... _other things_.”

He pressed another kiss to his cheek before letting Armin melt back against him. “And what if we live in the shabbiest little shack in New York? Where will our library be then?”

“Worry about that when we get there.” He guided Armin to turn around for a long, lingering kiss, smirking as he pulled him along to the bedroom portion of his cabin. “What do ya say, want to help me say goodbye to this fancy room the proper way?”

Armin grinned wickedly back. “Don't know if  _proper_ is the right word for what's going to happen.”

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“Felt like a weird shudder.”

Jean stared up at Armin with a puzzled look, thinking the other boy crazy. He shrugged and gathered his clothes, needing to get out of his room quickly, regardless of any 'shudders' Armin had supposedly felt. Oh gosh, what if it was one of his parents pounding on the door or wall? He'd fallen asleep after his and Armin's  _celebration_ so to speak, totally compromising the entire plan of avoiding an awkward and painful encounter with his parents.

He exited the cabin a short while later after throwing on a coat, pockets filled with whatever he could stuff in them, Armin in a similar one a bit too large on his smaller frame. The boy didn't own a proper coat and though the worst of winter was over, he was sure New York would be cold at night once they arrived. No harm in taking advantage of his fine possessions for one last time.

Something was wrong. A few people were rushing by, knocking on cabin doors. Jean looked at his grandfather's watch, seeing that it was a little past midnight.

“What's going on?” Armin asked a man rushing past who was trying to maintain a cool demeanor. It was strained, and Armin could see through the expression immediately. “What happened?”

“No need for alarm, sir. I suggest you alert your family members to procure their life vests and make their way to the top deck. Excuse me.”

The attendant carried on spreading the word, leaving Armin and Jean to stare dumbfounded at each other in the corridor.

“Should we go above?” Jean asked. “Maybe it's nothing. A drill?”

“A little late for a drill. And he looked worried.”

Things were not so forcibly calm out on the deck in the bitter April air over the Atlantic. Crew members sped by, shouting to each other over the din of the chaos. A persistent whistle was in the air, adding to the panic. The first round of passengers made their way to the open decks, Armin and Jean included.

“It's freezing,” Armin said through chattering teeth, breath rising in clouds. Jean nodded slowly, arms raising to wrap around the violently shivering boy.

A sense of extreme tension was all around them, from the crew shouting and wildly gesturing to each other above the noise. It made it difficult to think, let alone process what was actually going on. Armin stayed close to Jean, providing him with his theories to the madness. He told him that he felt the engines stop, which could not be a positive sign.

“I... I think the ship is sinking.”

“Armin. No, no that's impossible. Don't be morbid.” He feared the worst as well, but it was difficult to fathom the possibility. Engine failure. Fuel malfunction. That's it. That was what was happening. “This ship is unsinkable.”

“Says who? The papers? They'll print anything these days.”

Jean chose not to dignify that with an answer, trying to find something to distract himself as the world fell apart all around him. He stared out into the ocean as they leaned there on the railing, envious of the calm. The ink blue darkness of the water looked like glass, strangely absent of the crashing waves he'd gotten used to watching. The stars above reflected perfectly on the still water, making his unease worsen. How could something so perfectly steady exist while whatever was happening behind him threatened to shake his very foundations.

“Look!”

Armin pointed to a bout of commotion happening further down the deck, where crew members were actually starting to load a group of first class women into a lifeboat. Jean felt the sensation of his stomach dropping, like the floor had caved in leaving him to float in some void of dread. The ship was sinking. He busied himself with tying his life vest tighter, hands shaking too much to get a firm grip. Armin grabbed his hands to stop him, tears in his eyes as he realized everything he'd said only moments ago.  _The ship was sinking._

“Jean, look at me.” He placed forceful hands on either side of Jean's face, locking their teary eyes. “Stay calm. We'll be fine.”

“How do you know that?! How could this happen...”

Armin surged forward to kiss him hard, arms thrown around Jean's neck without a care for propriety or anyone who might see them and judge. He didn't care. They clung to each other like anchors on the sea, breaths coming harsh once they parted.

No new life in New York. No grand adventure on those streets made of gold in the city of dreams. A better life there.

“Eren! My friends! They're still below deck! Oh god, we have to let them know what happened,” Armin suddenly blurted out, pulling himself away from Jean with the sudden need to get below and find the others.

“No, you can't! They'll be fine,” Jean held fast to Armin, desperate to keep him from dashing away. “They know. Everyone was being alerted.”

“But-”

“Look, if the ship's sinking we can't go back in there. The water-”

“I'm not a coward. Are you?”

“No! That's not even the point! Be reasonable, ok? Stay here,” he barely could get the words out, voice breaking as he pleaded over and over with Armin. “Stay with me. We'll get on one of those boats.”

“You promise? You promise we'll all make it to New York?”

Jean resumed his tight grip around Armin and stared up at the night sky, cheeks wet and stinging in the frigid air. “I'll promise you anything you want, I swear. We're going to be fine. I'll protect you.”

They held on to each other and waited, waited in the cold as the faint sound of violins drifted from somewhere on the deck. The two dreamers stood firm, believing in empty promises as false as those flimsy life vests secured around dress coats laden with items that felt so unimportant now, only weighing them down. They held onto the conviction that everything was going to be alright as they leaned over the railing and watched as the first lifeboat was lowered down onto the ocean.

Armin though it was funny, in that morbid sort of way, that their first meeting took place against a railing on the deck of this ship. There he stood, leaning over once again to stare out at something much bigger than either of them could comprehend.

 

**Author's Note:**

> do they survive? you decide. i didn't want to write that part because this fic is already melodramatic enough so brb gonna watch titanic for the 200th time, i love that move unashamedly  
> Also I didn't really research how people in the 1910s talked so thank my lazy ass for historical inaccuracy on all fronts  
> [main tumblr](http://theghostbusters.tumblr.com/) & [snk only](http://aarlertarmin.tumblr.com/).


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